The zombie crumples against the glass and remains slumped over like that, half standing, half leaning, until I open the door farther and the creature falls out onto the deck with a loud thump and the dog rushes forward to sniff it.
I stand cautiously in the entrance of the house and listen for anymore sounds that might mean another zombie. I don't have to listen very loud- I don't even need the low growl that the dog issues. I can hear another zombie somewhere in the house and its making one hell of a ruckus. I make sure the dog comes inside with me and then I shut the door as quietly as I can. I don't want to accidentally let more zombies inside that I'll have to deal with.
I follow the source of the noise to the bottom of a staircase, but I can't actually see what's happening down there. I pull my flashlight from my pocket and risk turning it on since I'm inside- even though I know its not ideal because of windows. I'm gonna have to risk it, or I won't be able to clear the house. I snap on the light and aim it down the stairs to where a female zombie with long, tangled blond hair is beating fruitlessly against a door.
I recognize the other side of the same door I knocked on earlier. The zombie spins around at the beam of light that hits her, and her face makes me cringe. It's mottled grey with decomposition and she has large bite marks and torn skin. The dog growls and I put a calming hand on its head as I take a few cautious steps down the stairs.
As far as I've seen most zombies do not have the coordination to navigate stairs successfully. The zombie rushes forward hungrily when it spots me and the dog gives a low warning bark, which I shush. The zombie hits the bottom of the stairs and goes down, falling onto her belly, she keeps trying to writhe her way up towards me. Her bony fingers reach out and she grabs the stairs and begins to claw her way- she would probably eventually make it, but I don't have that kind of time. I take the remaining few stairs that lay between us and plant my axe into the back of her head. It was relatively easy because she was so conveniently laying on her belly.
I step on the axe this time, to be sure, even though the zombie has stopped moving. The dog lets out a small whine and I climb the stairs to pat it on the head. I pause and listen for anymore things that go bump in the night, but the house is quiet. It is standard protocol to clear the entire house, but I don't have the energy to go dispatch any zombies that might be locked up in bedrooms. I have no intention of falling asleep in here, and the dog isn't giving any warning sign that something might be wrong.4
The dog takes off, its nails clicking loudly on the hardwood floor, and I follow the dog for a little while to see where it goes. Finally, I realize the dog is just being a dog and sniffing its way around, so I leave it to its own agenda and go check out the kitchen. The kitchen is beautiful, second level overlooking the river, with lots of windows that provide enough light that I don't have to worry about turning on the flashlight.
I start digging through the cupboards, but they are mostly bare, and I have a theory that this couple survived for a while before one of them turned and infected the other. The empty cans overflowing the trash can, tell the story.
I do find a few things they didn't get to eat before they turned. A can of pork and beans, a few cans of fruit cocktail, and a ham in a tin with an odd peel off lid like a sardine can. I open the ham first and take a tentative bite with a clean fork that I find in a drawer. It is salty and delicious, and I savor the bite before I dump it out on the floor for the dog.
I don't even have to whistle, and the dog is magically at my feet, wolfing down the entire thing in a couple big gulps. I open the beans for myself, it's not nearly as good tasting as the ham, but I think the dog deserves a treat for saving my life so many times in one evening.
I finish the can and do a little more poking around until I find a bathroom that has no windows. I make sure its empty then limp inside. My pain level wasn't too bad while I was outside walking around, but now that I've found somewhere relatively safe and have taken a bit of a break, I'm starting to stiffen up.
I turn on my flashlight and the room lights up, then I pull out a bottle of water and open the cap, taking a swig of the cool water before putting the plug in the bathroom sink and dumping the rest of the water in. The dog finds the open toilet seat and starts drinking noisily from. I wrinkle my nose at the dog, even though I very nearly had to drink out of a toilet bowl too, and then I start to wash the gravel and dirt out of my wounds.
It stings like crazy when I lather my hands up with a bar of soap that I find sitting on the edge of the tub, but I do it anyway because I don't want to die from sepsis. I rinse my hands off in the water and repeat the whole agonizing process again before patting them dry with a towel.
I dig through my backpack- Silas's backpack, but I've begun to think of it as mine. I'm not sure which one of us will claim it when he gets back. The thought of us fighting over the ratty piece of canvas brings a smile to my lips. I find the antiseptic lotion and rub some on, cringing at the burn, and then I wrap my palms with gauze and tape over it. Next, I shimmy out of my jeans and sit on the sink to examine my knees and wipe away the dirt and crusted layer of brown scab. It starts bleeding again, and I rub some antiseptic lotion on my knees as well, then cover it with more gauze and tape.
I put my jeans on and turn to the dog. It's sitting in the corner by the toilet watching me with an avid expression on his face and despite everything we've been through, I start to feel a little nervous at the way the dog is staring at me. I make a little chirping sound with my lips and the dogs ears perk up and it gets up and walks over to me and the tension is broken as it wags its tail and seems genuinely happy to see me.
I look at a long scratch on the side of the dog's face that was obviously bleeding at one point but is now dried up like my own wounds. I wonder if the dog will bite my arm off if I try cleaning it. I dip the facecloth back in the water, careful not to get my own bandages wet and then gently wipe the dogs face. It doesn't seem to mind.
I'm as gentle as I can be. The dog puts on a much braver face than I did when I apply the antiseptic. I know it must burn, it certainly did for me, but the dog doesn't so much as blink, or whine. I pet the dogs enormous head and scratch underneath the collar.
A faint jingling sound draws my attention to a small silver tag shaped like a dog bone. "Mike?" I read out loud, ignoring the accompanying phone number, and the dog's ears perk up at the name. I giggle a little bit at the name. What kind of name is Mike for a dog?
I rub the dogs head. "Good boy." I tell him fondly, and I like the sound of that. I've been thinking of him as an it, and its nice to be able to know for sure. I sit for a few minutes rubbing the dogs head and nearly fall asleep, but I catch myself. I need to find a piece of mail that will have an address on it, then I can compare it against the map.
I luck out and find a phone bill on the kitchen table and I take it back into the bathroom and spread the map out on the counter.
I'm only about two miles away from the outskirts of Louisville. I try and remember how long it used to take me to run a mile back in gym class and I think I was hovering right around ten minutes. So even if I walk, I should be able to cover that distance in about an hour.
It takes me a while, but I finally find a small clock that is battery operated and is still functioning, at least I hope the time is correct. The clock tells me that it's a little bit past midnight, and I'm shocked that it isn't later. It feels like it should be close to dawn at the very least, but I guess if it got dark at six, I've been at this for the last six or so hours. It felt like an eternity and I'm bone tired, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's one hour away.
I tell myself that I have to at least get to Louisville tonight, and then depending on what I see, I can either spring Silas out of jail right away, or at least hole up for the day with enough information to form a new plan.
I don't even have to whistle for Mike, as soon as I get my backpack back on, he magically materializes at my side like he has some kind of sixth sense. I pat his head, and hope that he makes it through this, that we both do.
We head out the same way we came in, through the glass patio door. I make sure to shut the door behind us, I like the idea of leaving the house safe for anyone else that might need to seek shelter within it's walls.
As if to reward me for my troubles, Mike growls when we reach the bottom of the stairs and I hear the answering moan from a zombie somewhere near the path that leads back to the river. Just like the rest of the night, this last little bit obviously can't be easy.
I'm starting to think of my axe as more of an extension of my hand at this point, I've been carrying it so much, it might as well just grow there and save me the trouble. I raise it up over my head as a big zombie comes charging out of the trees towards us. It's a lot bigger than I feel equipped to deal with, and is still about thirty feet away, so I decide to use the terrain to my advantage and turn and jog back up the stairs. Mike looks like he wants to stand his ground and fight, but an impatient command from me and he grudgingly joins me on the steps.
The big zombie actually manages to get up the first couple of steps before it starts to slow down and the its jerky, unpredictable movements become a problem for it. With the higher terrain, I take a big swing and catch the zombie in the top of the head. The axe imbeds itself in the zombie's skull, but it still keeps coming and I groan. The big ones can never be easy.
I tug at the axe handle, but it doesn't come free easily and I narrowly miss getting hit by the zombie's club like arm, so I retreat a little and start to grab for my knife at my hip, but I don't want to get that close to the thing. Its arms are at least twice as long as mine, and I don't have the advantage here. Instead of quickly jog up the rest of the stairs and look around the deck for something I can use as a melee weapon.
A heavy concrete planter is sitting in the corner and I rush over to grab it. It strains my back to pick it up, but I manage it and manage to get it over to the stairs, where I launch it at the top of the zombie's head. It lands on the protruding axe blade and the force of its weight, pushing the blade deeper, and the zombie suddenly collapses.
I nearly collapse as well in relief, but I manage to keep on my feet. Mike prances around me in excitement and I wish I had half his energy- it must have been all that ham he ate.
I stare down at the zombie, who's enormous frame is now face down and blocking the middle of the stairs. I might be tempted to find another way down from the deck, but he still has my axe in his head and my hand is feeling empty without it.
I resist the urge to groan as I climb down and begin pulling the axe from the ogre's head. It comes free with a wet slurp and then I do a bit of a juggling act as I climb down the zombies back while holding the railing in one hand and my axe in the other. Mike seems to have far less trouble than me, and he meets me at the bottom, not looking the least bit perturbed.
"Almost there." I tell him quietly as I lead us back towards the river. I really didn't miss the banks of this devil water, and once I find the others, if I never have to look at the Ohio River again, it will be too soon.
I keep a close eye on Mike as we travel, watching him for his reactions, which in the very short time I've known him, I've come to trust. If Mike growls zombies, if Mike doesn't growl, no zombies. We walk for another hour and Mike doesn't growl once and I almost start to relax until I round a bend in the river and suddenly see Louisville, its outline anyway. Its dark, but unmistakable with its large buildings looming in the night sky. Its completely dark like I knew it would be, but I can still make it out in the moonlight. I glance at the river and notice all the rubble that still remains of the bridge they blew up, there are still broken columns jutting out of the water reaching towards nothing.
I realize how lucky we were not to hit them when we jumped into the water. I stare at them hard as a lump form's in the back of my throat. What if Dad and the others hit them? What if it knocked them out and they drowned?
Mikes growl pulls me out of my grim revelry, and I scan the area, but don't see anything though there is moisture in my eye. I quickly rub my cheeks and look again with fresh eyes, but nothing is running towards me moaning and groaning, and it makes me uneasy. At least with zombies you know what to expect- their intentions are always clear, and as terrifying as they are, I would much rather face down a zombie these days than another human being.
I can't figure out whats making Mike so uneasy, but I have nowhere to really go except forward now. No one is rushing out trying to capture me with guns pointed, and a zombie isn't rushing out trying to eat me, so I do the only thing that makes sense. I make excuses to myself. The dog is nervous because he can sense the people in Louisville...
I'm not sure what my goal here is, but I need to see something that's going to make sense to me, maybe some sort of glaring sign that says, rescue Silas here, I don't know, but I need a sign before I can quit walking this river bank and find a place to hole up for the day.
I didn't just make it through literal hell to get here, to not be able to figure out a way to do this thing. I walk along the riverbank examining the safety precautions the people of Louisville have in place against the zombies. A train track runs between the river and the town and they've moved train cars to line the track and created a wall of sorts. It looks like they've welded a sheet of metal between each train track to make it solid- more like a fence.
This is not the same place we jumped in the water, I don't recognize the train cars, so they must not have had enough to do all along the rivers edge. I'll need to keep walking and find a place where the train car wall ends, and then I might have a chance of sneaking in.
The only problem is, I don't know how far this train fence goes. The length of the city is long- even though the people have made a smaller area within the city to reside, I don't have an exact calculation of how many miles in that could be. I'm debating if I'll have time to scout it all out tonight, or if I should be finding a place to hole up for the day when a rough voice makes me stop short. I think it even scares Mike, because I feel him tense. "That's far enough." The voice tells me, and I could kick myself for being so stupid. I came so far just to be caught.
I can't see where the voice is coming from, but Mike turns towards one of the blown-up bridge pillars near the rivers edge with a growl and I direct my attention there. It would appear that Mike is a lot better at detecting zombies than regular human beings. I file that little tid-bit away for later and hope that I'll live long enough for it to come in handy. I start inching my hand towards the gun at my hip, hoping like hell that it's too dark for this guy to see what I'm doing, meanwhile Mike starts heading towards the pillar with his hackles up.
"Keep that thing away from me." The voice demands and my brain is, so terror stricken, that I don't even recognize it, not at first.
"Please." I start to beg, as my hand reaches down, and I catch hold of Mikes collar. He strains against my hold, but I jerk him back roughly, hoping he will get the message and back down. I have little doubt the dog can handle himself against a zombie, but I'm pretty sure he isn't faster than a bullet. "Please, just let us go." I ask, hoping I can appeal to this guys humanity- maybe he won't recognize me, and will just think me and this dog are passing through, after all, we didn't have a dog when we first came to Louisville.
"Jane?" The voice asks, and my mind goes blank as a shadowy figure emerges from behind the cement pillar- my hand freezes on my holster and I'm unsure if I'm going to need it or not. "It really is you?".
The figure starts taking long strides towards me, and I take a few tentative steps as well, disbelief making me almost numb. Mike lets out a snarl that has the guy screeching to a halt and I can't help but giggle. I'm so relieved.
"Are you going to let that thing eat me?" Ryan asks and I shake my head, before realizing that he probably didn't see that.
"No. No, of course not." I tell him, having to clear my throat to clear it of the emotion that's suddenly bubbling up inside me.
I tug at the dog's collar again. "That's enough Mike, we like him."